I live on the eastside and I find myself thinking about you often.
I've got to collect all the fallen rubble and put those past memories to the coffin.

I tend to hold onto patterns fearing I'll lose a part of me and die from coughing.
I truly wish that when i take a quick glance in the mirror I'd see myself genuinely laughing.
Rewriting a list for a thousand times now, of everything I've been busy chasing.

Squeezed by uncertainties thinking what path there'll be for me to follow,
The only thing I can find strength to do is to hope I won't end up in a hollow.